


A Night At The Opera

by The_Bentley



Series: Kisses Bingo Fics [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, French Kissing, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera References, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Operas, Paris (City), References to Faust - Gounod Opera, Semi-Public Blow Job, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26441386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Grabbing Crowley by the arm, Aziraphale dragged him out of his chair onto his knees in front of him, his husband looking up at him in surprise.  This was not typical Aziraphale behaviour.  Aziraphale stared down at him from his chair, a smirk on his face letting Crowley know he had just landed himself into trouble.This is the first time Aziraphale has been able to attend an opera at the Palais Garnier.  He is damned sure not going to let Crowley's outbursts ruin it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Kisses Bingo Fics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861126
Comments: 15
Kudos: 111
Collections: Kisses Bingo





	A Night At The Opera

**Author's Note:**

> Kisses Bingo call: Kissing at a Performance

They stood at the foot of the Grand Staircase looking at the other opera-goers milling around, Aziraphale’s eyes bright as he took in the elegant ceremonial white marble staircase with balustrades of red marble and onyx that split into two separate ones leading to the Grand Foyer. He gazed upon the bronze figures holding torchères like they were bouquets of light and the beige marble arches at the top. The paintings above their heads represented four different allegories of music. Aziraphale was awestruck. 

“Charles Garnier himself said the staircase was as much a theatre as the opera. I believe he was right,” he said excitedly to Crowley as they climbed the stairs. “Can you imagine the crinolines that brushed this marble back in the day?”

Crowley shrugged. “I might have been wearing one, to be honest.”

Aziraphale didn’t appear to hear as he was currently dragging Crowley as politely as possible into the Grand Foyer with its eighteen-meter ceilings painted in a classical style, all depicting moments in musical history. Opulent chandeliers lit the entire hall in warm hues of gold. Crowley was convinced he had never seen so much gilding in his existence. As he was pulled along, he mused that even the Palace of Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors was not as decadent as the foyer they were now travelling through. 

“Calm down, angel. We’ll do a proper tour while we’re here in Paris. I can’t believe you have never set foot in here before.”

“Never had the opportunity.” 

Aziraphale was gazing up at the ceiling in utter amazement, his grasp on Crowley’s hand strong enough to cut off blood flow to Crowley’s fingers, but no matter. Crowley didn’t require circulation. A small demonic miracle kept his fingers from falling asleep. He indulged his angel without complaining, allowing Aziraphale to take him further into the Palais Garnier. They were lucky to catch an actual opera here. These days the Palais Garnier was used mostly for ballet performances with the Opera Bastille hosting more of the operatic productions. Crowley had miraculously procured them a box when he saw one was playing; Aziraphale refused to go near the Opera Bastille. Although long by the standards of the human memory, his imprisonment there was still fresh in his mind. Time passed differently when you were immortal.

Eventually, they meandered their way to their private box, close to the stage and shut away from the rest of those attending the opera. Six velvet chairs filled it and Aziraphale excitedly took one that offered the best view of the stage. Crowley handed him a programme he wished up and sat down next to him. Aziraphale flipped through it after pulling his chair closer to Crowley’s so he could rest a hand on his husband’s leg as they watched the performance. Crowley laid his hand on Aziraphale’s, lacing their fingers together and giving a loving squeeze. 

“We’re seeing _Faust_?” asked an excited Aziraphale as he leafed through his programme. “I haven’t seen _Faust_ in a century!”

“I haven’t seen it at all.” 

Crowley’s idea of a night at the opera involved classic British rock bands.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat.”

Crowley doubted it since opera did not spark his interest. This was nothing more than an opportunity to treat Aziraphale to something he’d very much enjoy and from the reaction he was receiving already, Crowley had struck gold. His angel deserved a little spoiling once in a while. What better way to show someone you loved them than suffering through an opera with them? Well, one of them would be suffering.

Crowley pointed. “Box Five’s right across from us.”

“You know they never sell it.”

“They could be making a fortune off of that. Come sit in Box Five of _Phantom of The Opera_ fame!” Crowley leaned over to nibble Aziraphale’s ear playfully. “Charge extra and everything. I'm guessing you read the book?”

“Of course. Although I did find Raoul to be a bit of a weakly written character and some of Christine’s behaviour . . .”

“I’ll take your word for it, angel. It was all just a tale, wasn’t it?”

“Oh yes. There is a stone cistern beneath this building, but no actual lake. They hit an underground tributary of the Seine and couldn’t pump the water out fast enough so Garnier designed a double-foundation and the cistern to . . .”

“I’m sure that’s interesting, but can you tell me about it later?” 

Crowley was amused by Aziraphale’s knowledge of a building he had never entered before now.

“Oh! Look! It’s beginning!”

The auditorium lights had begun to dim, including the magnificent chandelier hanging above the orchestra.

“That never fell, either,” commented Aziraphale in a whisper. “A minor fire caused one of the counterweights to break loose and tumble into the seats below. Tragically, a concierge was kill . . .”

This time Crowley was more direct in quieting his husband. Grabbing Aziraphale by the chin, he gently turned his head towards him and muffled him with an ardent kiss. Aziraphale felt his long tongue flick into his mouth, reaching so far back the angel was sure he was going to choke on it. He moaned in response, shocked at his own behaviour. They were at the Palais Garnier for goodness’ sake! He allowed Crowley to finish before schooling his face into a mock annoyed look as now was not the time for such antics. The orchestra had begun to play. Pleased with himself, Crowley sat back in his seat.

Act One went smoothly with both angel and demon watching the opera unfold on the stage outside their box. Aziraphale said nothing about how it compared with the original book while Crowley kept his opinions on Mephistopheles to himself. But he became increasingly impatient as they reached the part where Faust signed the contract with the devil. Finally, he could take it no more. He opened his mouth to complain.

“Mephistopheles never could tempt as well as I could.”

“Crowley, please. Not now.”

He was silent for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Humans come up with the best contracts. I sent a bunch of computer software end licence contracts down to the Department of Acquisitions to teach them how contracts really work. . .”

“Shhh!”

“Most evil example of contracts I ever laid eyes on in my career.”

“Really? You’re going to silence me, then start talking through the opera I wanted to see?” hissed Aziraphale.

“Sorry, angel.”

On the stage, Faust wooed Marguerite with the help of Mephistopheles as Aziraphale watched intently and Crowley groaned inwardly. Gripping the arms of his chair as he bounced one leg, he tried his best to keep his thoughts to himself. This was Aziraphale’s night, and he was just going to keep chipping away at his joy in it until it was completely ruined if he continued with the outbursts. In a desperate attempt, he bit his lip until one of his fangs pierced it painfully. He failed to keep silent in the most spectacular way.

“Oh, for . . . ngk!” he burst out. “The man signs a contract with Hell so he can seduce and dump one woman? One? That’s the whole point of this farce?”

Grabbing Crowley by the arm, Aziraphale dragged him out of his chair onto his knees in front of him, his husband looking up at him in surprise. This was not typical Aziraphale behaviour. Aziraphale stared down at him from his chair, a smirk on his face letting Crowley know he had just landed himself into trouble. Unbuttoning his tuxedo trousers, Aziraphale pulled out something Crowley never expected him to reveal at the opera, private box or not. But he did not have much time to ponder this unprecedented move of his husband’s before a hand was seductively stroking his stylishly tousled locks as he looked at Aziraphale’s erection. His own desire to take it in his mouth grew as he regarded the cock before him and the red velvet interior of this deliciously inappropriate location. 

“You want to suck on it, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

It was one word, but Aziraphale was certain he could hear Crowley’s submissive side rise to the surface and click into place when it was spoken. 

“I want you to as well. You apparently need to be gagged during this performance and unfortunately this all we have available to us.”

Aziraphale leaned back in his chair, a smile creeping across his face as he felt the warm wetness of Crowley’s mouth encase his cock. With a thrust, he made sure it was seated down in the demon’s throat, feeling Crowley’s jaw and neck spasm as he adjusted to the sudden fullness deep within his mouth. The box was blissfully silent, save for the occasional slurping noise that could barely be discerned over the music rising from the stage. Satisfied, Aziraphale watched his husband’s head bob as he worked to please him. 

Continuing to caress Crowley’s red hair, he gave him a reminder. “Pace yourself, my dear. We have two more acts to go through.”

Mouth full, Crowley gave him a thumbs up.

Music washing over him as he watched the actors perform on the stage and the wonderful feeling of Crowley’s talented mouth on his cock, Aziraphale petted Crowley’s head and stole a moment here and there to finish flipping through his programme. This was turning out to be the best night of their trip to Paris. He’d have to remember to thank Crowley for the idea when the demon wasn’t quite so occupied. 


End file.
